by Jaclyn Hardy
This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are represented fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Book design and layout copyright © 2017 Dragons & Fairy Tales Press
Cover design copyright © 2017 Steve Novak
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Copyright © 2017 by Jaclyn Hardy
Table of Contents
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EPILOGUE
For my parents.
I’ve lived in Utah for as long as I lived in Oakley, Idaho, but the small farming town I grew up in will always be considered home. I’d wanted to write a western for a while now, and figured Oakley was the perfect place to set it.
To the northwest of Oakley, there’s a small grove of trees next to Cottonwood Creek where my grandma and her mom before her grew up. It’s a place I love to visit when I can (Which isn’t often enough), and I knew it would be the perfect place for the mansion in this story to sit. And so the Cottonwood Ranch series was born.
I want to thank my mom for helping me with the hours of research it took. She’s been my cheerleader from the beginning, and I always look forward to her feedback. Thank you to my entire family who followed us out to Cottonwood over Memorial Day so I could research the area. It was hot, and it had been a long day, but it was all so worth it!
Thank you to Amy Petrowich, Denise Cervantes, Lisa Racette, Rebecca Blevins, Tristi Pinkston, and Shauna Black for the beta reads and the edits. Love you all!
And most of all, thank you to my husband and children for their patience and their love.
Rachel stopped weeding and wiped her brow. It was uncommonly hot for June, and her plants were feeling it. If it didn’t rain soon, it wouldn’t matter if her flowerbeds were well groomed because everything would be wilted and gone.
She stood and stretched her back, then grabbed her tools to put them away. The rest would have to wait until evening when it was a little cooler. The darkness of the old rundown shed felt good on her skin, and she regretted having to go back outside. But this was the last of the chores on her list for the day, which meant she could escape for just a little while.
Rachel walked into her house and heard the gentle hum of the sewing machine coming from the back of the house. Mama must have decided to sell her quilts at the town market after all.
The smell of peach pie wafted in from the kitchen, and three more cooled on the stove. There would be more by that night. Rachel poured herself a glass of water and enjoyed the feeling of it running down her parched throat.
She set her glass in the sink and went to the back of the house, where she found her mother leaning over the sewing machine. “I got what I could, Mama. I’m going to run into town. Do you need anything?”
Mama stretched and looked at Rachel. She had three pins pursed between her lips, preferring that over using a pin cushion. She shook her head and waved before going back to her sewing.
Rachel turned, grabbing her keys on the way out. Her boots crunched on the gravel as she walked to her Chevy truck and climbed in. She turned on the engine and opened the windows before pulling onto the road. It was a thirty-minute drive into town, and it would take about half that for the air-conditioning to start working. She wasn’t going there yet, though.
Rachel turned onto an unpaved road a few miles later, her truck bouncing through the potholes. She needed to add more money to the jar she had hidden. Soon she’d have enough to put a down payment on the old mansion. In three more weeks, it would go on the market, and she could snag it.
The thought brought a smile to Rachel’s lips. Her own house. And not just any house—the perfect spot for a bed and breakfast, like she’d always dreamed of owning.
She was jarred out of her thoughts as the mansion came into view. Trees surrounded it. The twisted branches gave the yard character. While most people thought the whole property was an eyesore, Rachel had loved it since childhood. She pulled into the driveway and avoided the broken branches lying on the ground.
Rachel reached under the seat and pulled out an envelope. She counted the money again just to be sure, but she knew there were five tens, two twenties, and forty ones. She rolled it into a bundle and climbed out of the truck, shoving the money into her pocket.
The mansion welcomed her as she walked past the wild branches and up the old, worn steps. The brick exterior had seen better days, but still held up over the years. A few of the windows were cracked, but those had been boarded up at some point. The entryway had large cobwebs throughout. She shuddered and ducked into the small drawing room to the right. The only footprints in the room were her own, which was good. No one had found her stash yet.
Rachel stomped her foot as she walked. She had to do it just right. There! One floorboard made a hollow sound compared to those around it. She pulled the threadbare rug back, careful not to tear it. She sneezed as it stirred the dust, then knelt on the rug to hold it out of the way so she could lift the loose board. A jar of money sat nestled in the crack, along with a few old notebooks containing ideas she’d written down over the years. She pulled out the jar and shoved the bills inside, then screwed the lid back on. She told herself yet again that she should put all the money in the bank, but having it here just seemed to keep the dream of owning the mansion a little more real.
Once everything was set back exactly right, Rachel climbed the stairs to the library, where she pulled back an old ragged curtain to let in some light. Only a few books sat on the shelves now, and they were hers. She needed to return one to her aunt, so she slipped it under her arm and then picked up another.
The trill of her cell phone made Rachel jump. She pulled it out and cursed under her breath when she saw the caller ID. This call wasn’t going to be short.
“Hello?” Rachel turned and headed for the stairs.
“Hey, Rachel. Reverend Miller wants to know if you’ve made up your mind yet.” Mrs. Peterson was the organizer of the city celebration on the night of the Fourth, and had bugged Rachel endlessly about performing.
“You know I haven’t performed in years. I don’t even have anything ready to go.” Rachel made sure the door to the mansion was firmly shut and went to her truck.
“Nonsense. Your voice is like an angel’s.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. True, she’d always been told she had a great voice, but she wouldn’t compare it to an angel. “Thanks, but I’ll have to think about it. I have things I need to do around the ranch, and Mama is making quilts, so I’ll need to help with the baking.”
“Fair enough. But can I just put you down as a maybe?”
Rachel sighed. “Fine. If you can’t get anyone else, I’ll do it.”
That earned a squeal from Mrs. Peterson, and Rachel had to hold the phone away from her ear. What had she just gotten herself into?
Rachel set the last of the bags into her truck and shut the door. One store down, another three to go. She shoved her keys into her pocket and walked toward
the butcher shop. The streets were chaotic as people scurried from one place to another, getting the town ready for the week-long festivities. Red, white, and blue flags were plastered everywhere, and flowers were being replanted to match the theme.
The shop was cool compared to the heat outside. The butcher nodded toward her and continued helping the woman in front of her. The woman glanced over her shoulder and smiled when she saw Rachel.
“Oh, honey, I just heard the news. I’m so glad you’ll be singing next weekend. I’ve missed your voice.” Sherry was a good friend of Rachel’s mom and was connected to all the latest gossip.
“I haven’t agreed yet. I just told Mrs. Peterson I’d do it if they don’t find someone else.” The news had spread fast, even for a small town like this. Mrs. Peterson must have sent out a mass text.
Sherry laughed. “So stubborn—like your father. Well, I hope you’ll agree. Heaven knows we need something to help us forget last year’s fiasco.”
Rachel laughed. “Anything would be better than that.”
The mayor had convinced his niece to sing, and it had turned into a disaster when she forgot the words, burst into tears, and ran off the stage.
“True, but even so. I’ve missed your singing.” Sherry thanked the butcher and left the store with a wave.
“Sorry, Rachel, your order isn’t quite ready yet.” Stuart dried his hands on a towel. He was the same age as Rachel and had played football for college until he injured his shoulder.
She pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to him. “It’s fine. We’re still making space for it. I just have the information for the sheep we’re bringing in next week.”
Stuart took the paper from her and looked it over. “Everything looks great. I’ll send your family the invoice.”
“Thanks. I’ll be back in the morning for the burgers.” Rachel pulled out her wallet to pay the deposit for the meat he would be butchering for her.
“So, Rachel, are you really going to sing?” Stuart asked.
Rachel stared at him for a moment before she realized he was joking. “I’m kind of afraid to say no by now.”
He laughed. “I get it. Either way, you can’t blame everyone for trying.”
“I guess not.” Rachel put her purse away. “See ya, Stuart. Tell your mom I said hi.”
“Will do.”
Rachel left the butcher shop and climbed in her truck. She still needed to stop by the bank, but after being pestered all day, she decided to head home. If one more person asked if she was going to sing . . .
It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy it, but since the day she’d been left at the bus station, she didn’t have much of a reason to sing.
Rachel took a deep breath, excitement threatening to make her heart explode. She checked the itinerary one more time. Blake would be there any moment, and they’d head off to New York City where he promised her fame and fortune before they’d settle down in a small homestead in upstate New York.
Her bags sat around her, ready to be loaded. The bus driver tapped his foot, waiting for Blake to arrive.
An hour later, three buses had come and gone, with no Blake in sight. It wasn’t until Mama sat next to her on the bench and put an arm around her, staying silent, that Rachel finally had to admit that Blake wasn’t coming.
“Mama, I’m home.” Rachel set the groceries on the counter and went to the sewing room. “How are the quilts?”
Mama stopped her sewing and turned around, taking the pins out of her mouth so she could talk. “They’re giving me fits. I’m about to put this one away for the day. Did you get the meat?”
“They’ll have it ready in the morning.” Rachel stepped closer to the blanket. The bright reds, whites, and blues matched the decorations in town. The pieces were shaped into stars and stripes. “This is beautiful. Where did you come up with the pattern?”
“My head.” Mama pushed away from the sewing machine. “Let’s go make some dinner. I sent Nancy home sick, so we’d better get moving.”
Rachel followed Mama into the kitchen. “Where is everyone? I expected them long ago, in this heat.”
“Cattle got out into the south fields.” Mama might have been at her sewing machine all day, but she kept a radio nearby so she could hear what was going on. “Start on the salad. I’ll get the meat cooking.”
Rachel went to the fridge and pulled out the lettuce and carrots. “Sherry says hi.”
“So does half the town.” There was a short silence. “Is it true?”
“I don’t know, Mama. I don’t want to talk about it.” Rachel used her foot to shut the fridge and set everything on the counter. She pulled out two of their largest serving bowls and got to work chopping lettuce. “I wish people would just drop it already.”
Mama sighed. “It’s a small town. They need something to talk about.”
“Yes. I just wish I wasn’t the one they talked about. But if wishes were fishes, right?” Rachel smiled at the saying her grandpa had used all the time.
“You’re young and single. Once you’re married with a few kids, they’ll forget about you and move on to the next person.” Mama chuckled and added onions to the large frying pan.
Rachel felt the sting of the words, but knew Mama didn’t mean any harm by them. She pushed the thought aside. “The town is all decorated. You should see it.”
“They went out of control again?”
“Yep.” Rachel finished the first bowl of salad and started the next one. “Every year they say they’re going to stay on a budget, and every year they go just a little crazier.”
The radio crackled to life. “The cattle have all been found. We’re coming in.”
Mama picked up the radio. “Thanks for the heads-up. See you when you get here.”
The kitchen was silent except for the chopping of vegetables. It would take about twenty minutes for everyone to get there and wash up, and there was still a lot more cooking that needed to be done to feed their family and the ten ranch hands who helped out.
Rachel grabbed two of the salad bowls and carried them into the large dining room. While Mama finished up the potatoes and sausages, Rachel set the table. The menial tasks allowed her mind to wander back to the jar of money hidden inside the mansion. Soon she could be doing this at her own house for her own guests. The idea brought a smile to her lips.
Patrick finished his call and stared at the painting on the wall across from his desk. The news of his father’s passing hung heavy in the air, and he had to blink several times to hold back the tears. A heart attack? His dad had been cleared with perfect health just a week before. Patrick took a deep breath, willing himself to keep calm for just a little longer.
He stood and straightened his suit before going around his desk. Reason told him he should just leave for the day. He would be no good to the company right then. But he needed to keep going, keep pretending that he’d see his dad at dinner that night like they’d planned.
The boardroom was already full when he walked in, each person looking at him expectantly. He smiled and set up his laptop, focusing on small tasks so he wouldn’t think about the phone call.
“Welcome to the meeting, everyone. I hope you all got the notes I sent out beforehand.” His voice cracked with emotion, and he had to pause before continuing. He just needed to get through the presentation, and then he could go home and pack.
“As you can see, our numbers have risen significantly the past several months, and we’re in a good position to buy out our competition.” The company his dad had said to target. No. Don’t go there. He cleared his throat and turned to the PowerPoint.
“Patrick? Are you okay?” Eric’s voice pulled Patrick out of his thoughts, and he realized everyone was staring at him with concern.
“Yes, I’m fine.” But he knew he wasn’t. He shook his head. “Actually, I’m not. I’ve just been given some bad news. Eric, could you take over for me?”
Patrick left before anyone could say anything. Suddenly, it was hard to b
reathe, and he wanted some air. He loosened his tie and whipped it off, figuring he could go back and get his laptop later.
He made sure he had his wallet and keys and walked out of the building, ignoring anyone who tried to talk to him. The drive to his house took forever. Now that he’d allowed himself to leave, he couldn’t get home fast enough. His mom had been so calm on the phone, but he knew it was an act. His parents were inseparable.
A couple of cars sat in front of the house when Patrick parked in the driveway. Mom sat in the living room with a few men Patrick didn’t recognize. She jumped up when she saw Patrick in the doorway.
He strode forward and pulled his mom into a hug. As she sobbed into his chest, he finally allowed his own tears to flow.
When he was able to control himself again, he led her over to the couch, then turned his attention to the others in the room. “Is there something I can help you with? If not, I’d like some time with my mother.”
“I just need a few things signed, and then we’ll get out of your way.” One of the men stood and handed Patrick some papers. “My name is Larry Simpson. I’m the attorney over your parents’ estate. Your father left instructions for how his funeral should be conducted. Once that’s over, we’ll go through his will.”
Patrick had heard his dad talk about Larry several times over the years. He nodded and filled out the paperwork before handing it back. “Thank you. I’ll go through everything and let you know if I have any questions.”
He walked Larry to the door, then went back and dropped onto the couch. He could think of the will and other business later, but for now, he just wanted to sleep and not have to think about the fact that his dad was gone.
The day after the funeral, Patrick sat in his dad’s study poring over old files. The will had promised enough money for Patrick’s mom to live comfortably for the rest of her life, and had left the remainder to Patrick. Now he stared at the numbers, shaking his head. He’d known his dad had saved everything he could, but he was sure the bank statement was off by a few decimal points. If what this said was true, Patrick could retire that day and never have to work again.
